


revivescere

by HiHereAmI



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extended Scene, F/M, Long-Term Relationship(s), Mutual Pining, One Shot, even tho they are hella married and with children, s04e05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 02:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiHereAmI/pseuds/HiHereAmI
Summary: "There you are"That's the look they give each other, those are the unspoken words (how else it would be, if them, if not unspoken but perfectly open, certainly conveyed"I've missed you. Hello"*Or, that scene in season four when Doctor Turner and Shelagh meet once again.





	revivescere

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as an analysis of [this](http://miss-ute.tumblr.com/post/183317139110/hihereami) scene in season 4 episode 5.  
> As context, in the episode Doctor Turner had his depression start out again after he misdiagnoses a baby patient. He corrects his mistake in time but the amount of work his surgery is undergoing and the feeling that he's letting everyone down destroys him. Shelagh sends him to bed rest and takes up charge in the surgery, having to use the nurse uniform for the first time in the series and his official return to work since she gave up her vows. This fic is centered in the scene when Patrick , finally recovered and with his confidence back, storms into the surgery asking the first nurse he sees for his bag. She turns around and surprise! It's his wife!

_**revivescere** : to restore life_

 

 _"There you are"_   That's the look they give each other, those are the unspoken words (how else it would be, if them, if not unspoken but perfectly open, certainly conveyed  _"I've missed you. Hello"_

Because his ragged appearance and his rolled up sleeves can't hide the absolute determination, fire in his eyes crackling as he asked for his bag, as he thought and fought against every shadow in the corner of himself for a patient -- a patient to care for, a patient to believe in, a patient to protect.

Because in his loud voice and rushed entrance there's rebirth - the rebirth of a Doctor, the rebirth of a friend Shelagh feared having lost, the rebirth of something (she sees it in the lines on his face, on his tender smile, on the vulnerability of his expression) that's undeniably Patrick. Because all three facets are the man she married.

Maybe once upon a time she would have made the comparison with the faces of an ancient god but now she knows better. Patrick is no ancient god (and how would he raise his chin defiantly at the adjective, determinant on proving her otherwise) but a human in flesh and blood, closed off when the nightmares lurk behind his eyelids, joyful when he watches a new baby being born from the sidelines, respectful and tender, holding her hand as a gift yet unbelievable and most of all, he's constant, steady as a heartbeat, willing to partake instead of impose.  
Patrick is her husband and he's right there, life shining in his eyes, in the line of his shoulders, tense with determination instead of anxiety.

He's looking at her anew, too, drinking in the uniform, the title in his own words taking a new meaning because it’s _her_.

He called her nurse and she turned around, features shifting in a puzzled, then hopeful expression that could only belong to his wife. And who else could it be, taking the weight of the world on her shoulders? Who else? And it’s a while since he’s thought about it, how she’s Shelagh and Sister Bernadette and he always thought there was a duality in her but now he sees that he was wrong. His wife isn’t a coin, for much that she could try, showing a face and hiding the other. She’s both sides at the same time and none at all. The limits between Shelagh and Sister Bernadette - the wife and the midwife, the woman and the nun - are blurred, have always been blurred, corners as frayed as his coats used to be, and the uniformed woman that stares at him is the living proof.

This is the end of her war, too - he notes - the war between two sides of herself she thought irreconcilable, the war between a fictional duality of her passions. Because she doesn’t have to be one thing or the other when she’s both and it’s in her ability to choose that lays her power, blooms her freedom. She’s missed this, blue on her clothes, white on her hair, someone out there who needs to hold her hand, who needs her strength.

He feels a little guilty for not seeing it before, for not insisting and showing her that this was also a path she could tale but he’s quick to know that this wasn’t his call to make, this is the journey Shelagh had to do on her own. She doesn’t need a guide (she never did) she only ever needed a partner, _wanted_ someone to walk alongside with. And she chose him. And he chose her, too, with white in her hair and blue on her eyes, a hand to reach when he thought it’d be impossible, a smile to cherish and revel in.

He once thought her unattainable but he never doubted that that wasn’t where his passion resided. No, he loved her for her spirit, her strength like an storm making itself known in the country air (and after years of married life he still winces when he makes her mad, feeling the electricity under his skin), her fierceness quiet but intense, crackling in sparks, growing from the earth in the form of a reliable, firm hand. And most of all, he loved her for the warmth that shined in her cool eyes and for the honesty she poured onto every word, every action.

Shelagh is everything at once, his wife, a midwife, a nurse, and she’s right there, standing in the eye of the hurricane, ready to take the world in spades.

So Patrick smiles knowingly, relieved, spine firm and ready to take it alongside her.

“Let me get it for you, Doctor”

Their relationship has always been about seeing each other with new eyes. They meet and, once again, they fall in love.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! This little snippet feels quite cathartic, I've been wanting to do something about them for more than a year! Please leave a comment with your opinion and come scream with me about CTM on @hihereami at tumblr!


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